Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic StorySimms, William Gilmore
General
Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic Story
Simms, William Gilmore
Domestic fiction
That day, and the night which followed it, was a long period with me. I
had to see many acquaintances, and attend to a thousand small matters.
I was on my feet the whole day, and even when the night came I had no
rest. I was in the city till near eleven o'clock. When I got home I
found that my wife had done her share of the tasks. She had completed
her preparations. Our luggage was all ready for removal. To her I
had assigned the labor of packing up her pictures, her materials for
painting, her clothes, and such other matters as she desired to carry
with us, to our new place of abode. The rest was to be sold by a friend
after our departure, and the proceeds remitted. I knew I should need
them all. Most of our baggage was to be sent by water. We travelled in
a private carriage, and consequently, could take little. Julia, unlike
most women, was willing to believe with me that impediments are the
true name for much luggage; and, with a most unfeminine habit, she could
limit herself without reluctance to the merest necessities. We had no
bandboxes, baskets, or extra bundles, to be stuffed here and there,
filling holes and corners, and crowding every space, which should be
yielded entirely to the limbs of the traveller. Though sensitive and
delicate in a great degree, she had yet that masculine sense which
teaches that, in the fewness of our wants lies our truest source of
independence; and she could make herself ready for taking stage or
steamboat in quite as short a time as myself.
Her day's work had exhausted her. She retired, and when I went up to the
chamber, she already seemed to sleep. I could not. Fatigue, which had
produced exhaustion, had baffled sleep. Extreme weariness becomes too
much like a pain to yield readily to repose. The moment that exercise
benumbs the frame, makes the limbs ache, the difficulty increases of
securing slumber. I felt weary, but I was restless also. I felt that it
would be vain for me to go to bed. Accordingly, I placed myself beside
the window, and looked out meditatingly upon the broad lake which lay
before our dwelling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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